PALM SPRINGS — President Dwight D. Eisenhower, on holiday from the White House, whips a golf club beneath a blue October sky. Frank Sinatra, driven indoors by a December rainstorm, schmoozes with Peter Lawford and sings with Ella Fitzgerald.
Meanwhile, other rich and famous folk are partying at the Chi Chi Club or pulling up their Cadillac coupes in front of the Riviera, a new modern hotel. All over the Coachella Valley, architects and builders are seducing tourists with butterfly roof lines, space-age appliances, minimalist graphics and backlighted starbursts.
Yes, 1959 was a swinging year in Palm Springs. And it’s not over yet.
Thanks to preservationists, entrepreneurs, publishers and design-driven travelers, the cult of Desert Modernism gets bigger and bigger, drawing retro pilgrims to Palm Springs. Inspired by books about Palm Springs and the 1950s, I spent three October days in the desert, all dedicated to 1959.
I consulted Peter Moruzzi’s “Palm Springs Holiday,” a volume of vintage postcards, menus, brochures, matchbooks and old photos. For further kicks, I consulted “1959: The Year Everything Changed,” in which author Fred Kaplan proposes that year as an unheralded pivot point in history.
Kaplan asserts that 1959 “was the year when the shock waves of the new ripped the seams of daily life … when categories were crossed and taboos were trampled, when everything was changing and everyone knew it — when the world as we now know it began to take form.”
Racquet Club Estates is the neighborhood where Alexander Construction Co. and architect William Krisel put up their first vacation-house subdivision in 1959. Picture a ‘hood of soaring roofs, clerestory windows, carports, screens of concrete blocks, pebbles and palms in the yard, and living rooms begging for Dean Martin on the hi-fi. New, these houses sold for $19,000. Now, with classic features bathed in avocado green, bold orange and powder blue, vacation rentals run $200 to $300 a night.
“Nineteen-fifty-nine was a good year for architecture here,” said Jade Nelson, 33, the manager of Orbit In hotel. The city “has made this resurgence because of its architectural legacy,” Nelson said. “But it lost the glamour that era brought with it. All the celebrities. There were hundreds of them.”
Palm Springs, which has about 48,000 year-round residents now, had about 13,000 then. The main drag, then as now, was Palm Canyon Drive.
For a view of the future, drive to the tall, ultramodern City National Bank building, which horrified some and transfixed others when completed in 1959.
The building, designed by Rudy Baumfeld of Victor Gruen Associates, was an homage to a tall, ultramodern chapel that modernist pioneer Le Corbusier had designed in Ronchamp, France. Now it’s a Bank of America. But it’s also a reminder that builders and architects then were thinking outside the box.
So was architect Albert Frey. In addition to a number of startling private homes and a compound now known as the Movie Colony Hotel, Frey collaborated on the low-slung City Hall and Fire Station No. 1 in the mid-’50s. By 1959, he was working on the city’s aerial tram, which would be completed in 1963.
Later came Frey’s pointy-roofed Tramway gas station, near the northern entrance to town. It now houses Palm Springs Visitor Center. A $5 map offers 75 local modernist landmarks, including many designed by Frey, William F. Cody and E. Stewart Williams.
Overnight visitors in 1959 had plenty of options: El Mirador (opened in the 1920s, closed in the ’70s) with its red tile roof; the brand-new Spa Hotel, or the Riviera, which opened in 1959 with guest buildings radiating out from the central pool like spokes from the hub of a wheel.
As the 50th anniversary approached, the owners spent $70 million on a renovation that has added Hollywood Regency promiscuity to the old minimalism with red chandeliers, portraits made of Guatemalan coins, colorized posters of bathing beauties.
In the Riviera’s new incarnation, the main pool’s edges curve gently, flanked by fire pits and cabanas. The 406 guest rooms are a riot of brown and orange and white, (like the Vegas Strip, but no casino.
Not everybody wants to stay in a big hotel, and by 1959 Palm Springs was full of tiny ones. In the Tennis Club district, a short stroll from downtown, was the Town & Desert (built in 1947, designed by Herb Burns). The Village Manor (1957, Burns again) was a few doors away.
After restoration and relaunches in the early 2000s, the Town & Desert is now the Hideaway (10 rooms) and the Village Manor is the Orbit In (nine rooms). With their prime locations, period furnishings, prices beginning at less than $150 and playful retro interiors, the two are stars in the modernist tourism revival.
“That chair came from a dumpster. It had pink upholstery,” said Nelson, pausing at a reclaimed retro armchair at the Hideaway.
The refurbished Chase Hotel (26 rooms), which went up in the late 1940s, used to be the Holiday House. A few blocks over are the stacked boulders and off-kilter angles of William F. Cody’s Del Marcos Hotel (16 rooms), a brilliantly designed but somewhat bedraggled 1947 spot with some renovation.
On the bending stretch of East Palm Canyon Drive that used to be called Indio Road is another sleek Herb Burns design from 1951: the Desert Riviera (11 rooms), a stark, U-shaped outpost with a pool in the middle.
Across the street is the bohemian Ace Hotel (which opened as a Howard Johnson’s hotel in 1965, with a Denny’s next door) and the quiet Alexander Inn, which was probably apartments in 1959.
With the recession knocking down rates, these small hoteliers would rather see adult couples than kids. Families are more welcome at the bigger resorts.
The former 1959 Holiday Inn sits at the south end of town on East Palm Canyon Drive. Since 1959, multiple owners have nudged the property upscale, including Gene Autry and Merv Griffin. Since 2004, it’s been known as the Parker Palm Springs. The midcentury bones of the 13-acre, three-pool, 144-room compound are amended with designer Jonathan Adler’s eclectic whimsy — knights in armor, butterfly chairs. Mister Parker’s is the hotel’s upscale eatery. The extremely low light (a flashlight comes with menu) and the groovy 1960s and ’70s art, are reflected by mirrored ceilings.
The reborn Parker’s, Moruzzi writes, is proof “that Palm Springs truly is the face-lift capital of the desert.”
Of course, plenty of ’50s Palm Springs landmarks have been lost, including the Desert Air (a fly-in hotel) and the Chi Chi Club (closed in the ’60s).
And up and down the valley, scores of new hotels and restaurants and golf courses and condos and water parks and such have arisen. But in a territory that’s so mutable, it’s a great comfort to lie in the shade of the rediscovered buildings that endure.
TO LEARN MORE: Palm Springs Bureau of Tourism, www.palm-springs.org. Palm Springs Desert Resort Communities Convention and Visitors Authority, www.palmspringsusa.com. Palm Springs Modern Committee, www.psmodcom.com.
I’m assisting Atomic Ranch Magazine, who is looking for exceptional homes in Palm Springs, to feature in their magazine and in a proposed second coffee-table book published by Gibbs Smith focusing on interiors. Do you have any nominees to share for possible inclusion?
